Bright White Snow
by StoriesWhispered
Summary: This is a story of a girl, lost after a war. She finds herself and so much more. SuperPotter Crossover.
1. Stawberry Rhubarb

_July 2__nd__, 2000 - Singer Auto Self Service Salvage Yard, __Sioux Falls,__ South Dakota_

John Winchester pulled into the long drive way into the salvage yard, ignoring his youngest sons glare. _Heaven help me when Sam turns eighteen_, he thought, _he was doomed_. He cut the engine and turned to speak but Sam was already slamming the door and he walking towards the house by the time he opened his mouth. Recalling several colorful swear words from his marine days, he exited the car and followed in, while preparing a short, sweet speech on his behavior. He never got to use the speech; instead he found a small child's tent set up in the living room and a girl, no older than Dean, sitting on the couch, reading a book.

Her hair was short, brown with a slight wave to it, sticking up in odd places. John watched her hand come up and run through, a practice agitated gesture; hair flattened and rose under petite fingers.

"You could sit, if you'd like," her voice was a small English drawl. She snapped the book shut and set it aside.

"The book's useless, so might as well stop before I turn it to ashes," she looked up finally, a small smile on her heart shaped face. Her eyes found Sam first, taking in his large frame before finding John. Her eyes crawled over him, studying him, her mouth puckered and her left eyebrow twitched.

"Semper Fi?" it was a question. But mostly it was strange, a foreign tongue speaking those words. It didn't matter, John's mouth opened without a thought, "Oo-rah."

He caught sight a straight, white teeth in her smile. "John Winchester." It wasn't a question.

"And," her eyes cut across to Sam, "this must be Samuel Winchester."

Before either could respond Bobby walked in the front door with a bag of groceries in hand and scowl in place. He barely gave a nod before heading into the kitchen, the girl was off the couch and burrowed in a black trunk, rummaging through and pulling and pushing books about. She let a small triumphant hum and pulled out one of the larger books before following Bobby into the kitchen.

John catalogued everything in the room, eyes scanning every surface. The trunk, black with a crest and Latin scrawled across it. The tent, where he could see two small feet poking through the flap. There was a black coat draped across a chair and khaki messenger bag behind the playpen. More impressive was the precarious stack of books that had not been there in his last visit, he was just itching to let Sam loose on them.

Speaking of his youngest, he finally let his eyes settle on Sam who was looking into the tent like he was expecting an army of children to come fly at him. John let out a snort and gave him a look, watched his sons eyes come back to life and face scrunch into suspicion. Locking eyes they walked warily into the kitchen and froze at the doorway.

She had donned an apron over her navy blue dress and the book she had wrestled from her trunk was splayed open on the limited counter space. But she was humming an odd tune as she flitted about the kitchen. She was organized, he saw her organize and reorganize the ingredients in front of her. Obsessive. Within seconds there was a sizzling meat and John's mouth watered. He had forgotten the last time he had eaten.

Bobby was speaking and John tried to focus, "Walked out the store and saw these two ijits and went right back in."

"Oh I'm so glad you saw them, it be shame if we hadn't had enough." John watched her as she salted the chicken in the pan before flipping it over with silver tongs. Bobby was speaking again but John was watching her eyes. A plain brown. No flickers or changes. She was putting the pan in the oven and clearing space. Bobby hurried over to help as her next batch of ingredients were organized and reorganized.

Sam had shifted next to him; John's eyes flickered over to the counter. He felt a pang in his chest. She was making pie.

She turned to look at them, "Pecan or strawberry rhubarb?"

"Strawberry Rhubarb," and John wondered where he had gone wrong with Sam. _Strawberry Rhubarb._

Before he could correct him or tell her to make neither, she was speaking again.

"John, right on the table is the book you asked for," she wasn't looking at him, focused solely strawberries in front of her. His own hands twitching he made his way to Bobby's dinner table and found a leather-bound book with no title.

Leather was not from any cattle that was for sure. It was old and light. Smoothly, he flipped it open he saw it was in different language and from what he could tell, ancient.

"Who are you?"

She turned, hands full of flour, a small glance at Bobby before her eyes swung back to look at him.

"I'm Genie. And that is the book on the thing you're looking for."

"Yellow-Eyes." She smiled.

A million and one things popped into his head. _You're Genie, the researcher that supplies hunters with rare books? Where did you get this book? What language is this book? More importantly can it be translated? Or is there anything in here on how to kill it? _

Before he could even form a coherent, non-offending question there was a shuffle of little feet, John turned.

The toddler stared with bright eyes; his sandy hair was tousled and streaked with a light pink. Even with the baby fat, John could see a hint of aristocratic cheekbones and chin. But it was his eyes, a violet-blue that were truly striking.

"Teddy," and without a second thought there was child in her arms, curling into her. She was smiling a bright happy smile as she turned back to making pie. He could hear her talking to him about the pie as she sat him down on the counter and handed him a small bowl of strawberries.

John turned to look at Bobby, he was looking right back at him. Probably watching him the whole time, he sent him a look. Bobby nodded. Well, she was legit. Not that it made any sense. He turned to look at Sam and realized he was tuning out again as he was having a conversation with Genie.

"Usually I'm not in the States, most of my time is spent researching at Oxford but this book is sensitive. I had to travel with it and I have to return it in perfect condition."

"Oxford, the University?" And didn't that question just kill John. So much hope in that single question.

"Yes, it's where I study but I also work part time in the Ministry, either way I'm up to your neck in books." Sam was nodding, smiling dopily, and John resisted the urge to snort again. He'd settle by interrupting.

"What language is the book in?" Sam sent him a look of loathing. Not that was anything new, but the blush was. At least Dean wasn't here, he'd set the place on fire if he had to watch his boys fight over this girl.

"It's in several ancient languages; some parts are Latin and others in cuneiform, and I'm sure some are in Enochian." Again John's brain filled with questions.

"Can you read it?" She looked offended.

"Of course I can," definitely offended. "How else would I know that this is what you needed?"

Before he could respond a blast of _Fortunate Son_ rang across the kitchen. He watched Genie pull a phone from her apron pocket; she looked at her phone and sighed.

"Who is this?"

"Oh, hello Harry,"

"Hmm, yes Draco changed all my ringtones and my address book names."

"No, you don't want to know what name you were under." She was chuckling when it happened. She glanced back to the kid, Teddy, on the counter. Her face shifted for a second and then it was back to smiles.

"Hmm, oh yes, I'm at Scotland Yard of course." John turned to Bobby. He was smiling.

"Researching, yes of course, what else do I do? I'll be going to Mexico soon for the pyramid tour but it will only be for a day." She loaded the pie into the oven and at once she was moving. Out the kitchen door and into the living room and back again within seconds, this time carrying a small wooden box.

"You know Harry, I'm not supposed to be on the phone here, and I am trying to work." She looked up and smiled at Sam at that, "Of course I'll take care of myself, while reading this book." She was rolling her eyes, "Yes, see you soon."

The next second the phone was in the box. She murmured something and the box glowed blue.

"Honestly, like you could possibly track me." She tutted and went to check on her chicken.

"Sam, can you get some plates." Sam, the idiot boy, went without complaint. Like he hadn't just seen some weird magic or the girl lie, honestly, he was getting an ass kicking.

He watched, arms crossed as she placed the skillet in the middle of the table, while pulling some potatoes from the oven. John got a whiff of the pie baking and shook his head. He was getting answers, food and pie be damned.

They all turned as they heard the front door open and close. "I couldn't find the thing, Bobby find anything." Dean's voice called out, like he had been summoned to save the damnable food and pie.

"The book you're looking for is on the coffee table, Dean, but leave it, no research at the table." She turned to look at John, a challenge in her smile.

John's hand curled around his Beretta M9 and smiled back.


	2. The Thing on the Swing

**A/N:** So this chapter is going to jump around in the timeline, but we will finish that kitchen scene- DO NOT WORRY. Also beta's?! Magical creatures that I'd sell my soul for! Find me and let's make deal?

* * *

_April 11th, 1998 – __Northampton, England, UK - __Elingston Estate_

Abbie stared at the girl on the swing. The deal was riddled with a bad stink and regret. But she knew she'd regret not taking it later on tonight. So she nodded, hypnotized by the plain brown eyes, searching for the red.

When the girl disappeared, Abbie stayed on the swing. She stayed all night and in the morning she was found by the staff who delivered the news. She had nodded and cried tears of relief.

She had been questioned and taken home and finally when it was done, she called a private investigator. She would like to know what price she would pay in ten years.

* * *

_August 28__th__, 1998 – London, England, UK – Ministry of Magic_

Hermione had the inexplicable urge to smoke. It was irrational and disgusting. Nevertheless, she had the urge to find Mundungus Fletcher, slap him across the face and nab his ridiculous smelly pipe.

Her fingers twitched as she stared at the courtroom door. She was waiting for Harry to finish; she promised she would be waiting for him in this seat. This, very uncomfortable, ugly seat.

Hermione sighed as she felt the urge to run gain on her. She had been good on keeping her disappearing act in check for about two months now. Although, Hermione didn't really call them disappearing acts, as Harry dubbed them. She just liked getting away, every once in awhile.

Like now, apparently. She was halfway down the hallway before she realized she was moving. Part of her was screaming to go back and keep her promise. The trial was going to be draining on him and she would be there, an understanding shoulder. The best friend that had spoken before him, in front of the Wizengamot but even as she thought these things, she picked up the pace. The Malfoy case. They'd get off, Hermione was sure of it, with two war heroes speaking in their behalf. She didn't want to be there for the end, she had planned on getting out with Harry before the verdict was delivered to the public. She was on the lifts, and she realized she might have planned ditching Harry because she was moving faster than usual.

Twisting around the Ministry easily until she was in old familiar corridor, she smiled as she twirled once around the circular room with multiple doors. Picking the one to her left, she found herself in the Research Room of the Department of Mysteries. Plucking her discarded research from underneath her favorite table, she hummed to herself as the tension of the trial and week faded away.

_International Security and Secrecy: The Muggle Alliance_ was a book that was currently being written by Blaise Zabini and Terry Boot, much to Harry's chagrin. Because it meant that Hermione was spending an inordinate amount of time with a pompous uppity researcher and poser snooty Slytherin. As if called, the chair across Hermione was suddenly occupied, "Hello Blaise," Hermione hadn't looked up from her journal, jotting down notes in the limited margin space.

"How would you like take a trip to France?" Hermione closed her journal and pushed across the table, smiling.

"A trip?"

Blaise flashed teeth, "To Lyon." Hermione grinned.

Interpol. They were going to see CeCe.

"Let me leave a note."

* * *

_July 2__nd__, 2000 – Singer Auto Self Service Salvage, Sioux Falls, South Dakota _

Sam was watching his father stare at his uncle Bobby who was in turn staring back at his dad. He cocked his head to the side to look at his brother who was unabashedly staring at Genie, who was watching him and smiling. Genie looked over to Bobby and shook her head and quirked her lips before turning her eyes to John. With a careless shrug she challenged him and Sam almost didn't want to look.

There was a loud CLICK. Empty. Which was impossible- dad's Beretta was always loaded. Genie was smiling, gloating really, when John stood, Chair scraping the cheap linoleum and he positioned himself in a tackle stance. And Sam started counting.

ONE.

John reached for Genie. She bends and-

TWO.

flips John over her shoulder. He lands, feet first. Arms circle her torso,

THREE.

she smiling as she slams her foot down on his. There's a grunt of pain.

FOUR.

Her bony elbow is digging itself into his solar plexus. And she's tucking in her chin.

FIVE.

He is letting go. But it's too late. Her head slams back into his face-

SIX.

there's a crunch. An almighty curse. Blood gushes out of his nose.

SEVEN.

A reverse flip. His dad is on his back. She's in him-

EIGHT.

she's twisting his arm around. Flipping him onto his stomach, pulling-

NINE.

a zip tie from her apron pocket.

TEN.

And tying his hands together. Stepping back. Smiling.

Sam turns to look at Dean, who is staring down at dad in shock. Because honestly, she has him bound and bleeding, in ten seconds. Sam finds her at the counter with the kid, Teddy, washing away the strawberry stains from his face. She turns to him,

"Can you get Teddy's booster chair, Sam?" Her hands waving carelessly towards the child's seat under the table. His hands move automatically and he secures it to one of Bobby's old kitchen chair and dusts it uselessly. She was there, again, impossibly fast and placing Teddy in his chair and pushing him in.

"Well, sit down, boys, and dig in." She motions to the food on the table; Dean sits next to Bobby, but looks confused as he's uncertain how he got into his chair. Sam follows, because really, what are his options?

She's moving over to his father, who by now has managed to sit up and is attempting to escape the zip tie that binds his hands. Sam watches as she crouches and hands come up to cradle his face, the next second there a crunch and his father swearing. She's pulling out tissues, from that god forsaken apron pocket, and starts dabbing away the blood.

"Gotten out of the ties, yet?" His dad is nodding, and she's standing, offering her hand, which Sam is surprised to see, his dad is taking.

He watches as his dad's blood streaked face twisted in a grimace as he takes a chicken thigh onto the plate in front of him and begins digging in. Like a spell being broken Bobby and Dean follow suit and Sam sees no point in arguing, for the first time, and gets a drumstick as Genie sits down, next to John and Teddy. He watches as she cuts up chicken before placing it front of Teddy and then eating herself.

"So-" Genie held up her hand, forestalling Dean's question, "Dean, I said no research at the table." Sam watched his father smirk, as Dean faltered.

"What are we supposed to talk about?" He heard himself ask as he nodded acknowledging Dean's grateful look.

She was smiling again; the sweet one and John knew that he was not going to like anything about this girl. In fact, John Winchester was convinced that this girl was put on this green earth to mess with family.

And it was working miracles.


	3. Hunting the Haunted

_July 2__nd__, 2000 - Singer Auto Self Service Salvage Yard, __Sioux Falls,__ South Dakota_

* * *

It was odd to be chatting with nomad hunters, CeCe had warned her that they were a suspicious bunch but she had no idea it would get this back. She had done exactly what she was trained to do: knock them off balance and prove your worth. Breaking a seasoned hunter was probably taking it bit far, but if Hermione was anything it was an overachiever.

This of course was not her first encounter with an American hunter; she had a file of six that she was in contact with. They were home-base hunters, they traveled for a hunt sometimes sure but they were older and preferred research. Much like her, that's why they were her contacts, she was only supposed to relay information and every couple of months, check in, swap books, stories and update the registry database. Twice she had been roped into a hunt that became too much of a nuisance, a vampire nest and a demon hunt.

The demon had been in Scotland, when she first began her training, it was an ugly thing that had followed her to France and Egypt before she was forced to dispatch of it. It was an absolute truth that Hermione hated demons more than Voldermont. She had almost quit the Agency then but was convinced to stay on board, she had only with the promise that she would not go into the field again. They had assured her but still made her go through the training program, as a precaution.

But then she had been sent to America.

American had proved to be stunning and horrible in so many regards. At first it was simple and frankly easy, other than some question about her accent Hermione had been accepted into the home-base hunters. Hermione had made it a full year without any field work and making so much progress in her namesake across the nomad hunters, she had a phone programmed specifically for them. She imagined it was her books and cooking skills that made the hunters feel at ease and it had been good, until the vampire nest.

Too many had died before she had made a move, she killed four before the night was over.

It had been disconcerting, to say the least, Hermione had been able to relocate the rest of vampires' clan before it had gotten out of hand and made friends with a nomad American hunter named Joseph Cohen. He insisted she was a miracle worker, as she convinced him that she had already killed and burned the remaining eight vampires by the time he got there.

Other than J.C., as he insisted she call him, the Winchesters were the other nomad hunters she had met personally. It never boded well, she looked too young and she preferred not to use her cover story. Too many lies to keep straight, something she was never good at, there was always a possibility for mistakes and that she'd rather not face, American hunters liked to shoot and ask question later. She knew she was going to pay for vanishing Mr. Winchester's bullets, she didn't know how but it was inevitable.

So now she stalled, tried to continue to knock the hunters off balance, get rid of them and get going. Bobby Singer's home was always a fun visit, usually it was last but on her checkups but today it was going to be cut short. Until then she rattled off about her research across the globe, mentioning the different creatures she was studying. She talked about Oxford, which had her and Sam talking about different study and testing habits, discussing the merits of color coding notes. With Dean she mentioned how hunters were called different names and their meaning, which she let slip she was studying linguistics and law at Oxford and offered him a basic law language to pass as an officer of the law. With Bobby she discussed the motorbike parts, which she was sending to Mr. Weasley for the reconstruction of Sirius' bike. Which had Dean and John talk briefly about Bonneville T120 versus the T140, asking her questions about the restoration and how it was going and what parts she was missing. Slowly Hermione felt the tension leave the room and started studying the family dynamic of these particular hunters.

It had been a long time since she felt this comradely; years, she bet, sometime before running off with Harry and Ron on the hunt for Horcruxes. It was such an odd frame of mind, to constantly be going into battle; it still gave Hermione the chills to think of her innocence going to fight the darkness. Knowing what she did now, she wondered if she would have gone so willingly, so ready to fight and win and be home by Christmas. As she watched the brothers bicker over pie flavorings and Bobby and Mr. Winchester share a look of amusement, she wondered how much innocence could be preserved in war. These boys, from what her records showed, had lived a hard life, always prepared for battle, little to no childhood innocence to keep. Yet, they reminded her of the Weasleys' boys before the war, the bond of brotherhood, the good and the bad. She itched to see them in a sporting event or a prank war; it made it her smile to try to picture them even younger and fresh faces full of mischief. But the food was ending and the conversation was getting into a lull, the domestic feel was going to end soon, it might as well be on her terms.

She carefully pulled Teddy into her lap, tucking him into her chest, before asking the question, "So everyone ready to party?" The effects were instant, the brothers stopped smiling and everyone sat up straighter. She lamented the loss of the moment, but carried on nonetheless.

"Sam, the book is on the coffee table and what you're looking for is on page twenty-three-" she turned towards Dean, "Dean, you're going to need fire." Without missing the boys stand and leave to gather information and weapons and Hermione wonders if Harry, Ron and she ever synchronized their movements when they went to face their battles, she didn't doubt it.

She turns to see John, opening his journal and leaves him to it, seconds later Sam is back and handing the opened book to his father, John starts a new page. A few minutes later, the brothers are armed and off to face the creature and she is left with John and Bobby.

"You sure about this?" It's not the first insulting thing John Winchester has said to her and she is certain it will not be the last.

"Yes, Mr. Winchester, I am certain." Teddy is squiggling out of her arms and she sends him to his tent. Warily, she turns back and takes back her book, putting it away and watches as he puts away his journal.

"Mr. Winchester, I was not planning on you even looking at this book, I was planning on making copies for you and leaving them here with Mr. Singer but since you are here-" John made a face, like he was about to argue and Hermione plowed on, "-you might as well take a look at it. And I can only stay a few hours to help with translations while I exchange books with Mr. Singer and then I really must go on to my next location."

There was something terrible about John Winchesters eyes, so much anger teetering in its depths, there was hurt and something that held the hint of danger. She felt like she was looking into a thousand tortured souls, it reminded her of Harry, which in turn made her skin prickle. She wondered if she would ever know this kind of anger and wished she could wipe it away, not only from the man in front of her but from the world. She'd try at the very least, it was why she was here, waiting for some trust.

But it was a fight waiting to happen, she wondered if she was going to pay for the vanishing bullets now. Refusing to glance at Teddy, who she could hear inside the tent blabbing on, she kept her eyes locked on John. Maybe it was sounds of a child in the room or maybe it was respect for breaking his nose, either way, he nodded his consent and snatched the book from the table with much more care than she expected. It was a start.

Bobby, who had been happily ignoring the pair, poked his head around the books she had brought him, with a little smug smile behind his beard. Hermione, sat and grabbed her black portfolio from her khaki messenger bag and carefully extracted three files from the W tab, she scanned them carefully, all the raw data on the Winchester family. Glancing around, making sure everyone was engrossed in their own work she pulled a stack of multi-colored sticky notes from her pockets; she started color coding her notes.

* * *

_May 21st, 1998 London, England UK – Terry Boot and Blaise Zabini Flat_

"I'll have you know I had a brief dalliance with a Muggle once." Hermione spit out her butterbeer and was gasping for breath when Blaise answered.

"Dalliance, Terry? Really?" He was frowning out him but even Hermione could tell he was amused. As the two bickered playfully Hermione relaxed more into her seat, it was one of those stolen moments of peace she had managed in the last couple of weeks since the Final Battle, as the Daily Prophet had began calling it. Hermione preferred Hell or Loss of Too Many Lives but she didn't know anyone writing in the Daily Prophet so the Final Battle stuck.

Hermione had been back in England for about a week and half and she was already itching to leave again. The only reason she had not was because of the two men in front of her. They had found her six days ago after a Minster Table meeting and rescued her from a nosy reporter who was two seconds from being hexed into oblivion.

In those five days, Hermione had gotten a part time job in the Department of Mysteries Research Department with Blaise and Terry to keep her company every day. They would take her from her Magical Law Enforcement office to lunch or invite her to dinner at their flat. It was a fast friendship that made her heart soar, mostly because they never asked about Harry or the Weasleys'. She wasn't sure if they just understood that she was not ready to talk about it or if they had heard about her impromptu vacation after the battle, either way that had been smart enough to never mention either subject. Mostly they talked about the book they were writing together, occasionally they helped her with her own writing and encouraged her to at least use the Auror training grounds for fun not actually training.

She knew Harry had been concerned when he saw her running around the training grounds but was put at ease when she said she merely wanted to see what she was missing. They had joked about her joining him in a career change but it was half-hearted at best and she had left to meet Blaise in the Research Department with bitter taste in her mouth.

They just had lost common ground, the purpose of a mission. They were still best friends, who shared so much together: it was the grief that was heartless and massive, too big to bridge just yet. Hermione's logic beat her emotions down, locked them away and carried on into rebuilding the world into something better. Ron, who had been a big, tall emotion of a person, did not like Hermione's brush off of emotions and Harry wanted to keep fighting. It was complicated mess of their friendship and bit of hurt from Ron and Hermione's point of view.

They were drifting and Hermione was making plans and friends, Blaise and Terry both were part of something bigger. Hermione didn't have a plan it was an unclear mess but Hermione knew it started at Ministers Table.

The Minister Table was round, new to the new Ministry and crowded with advisors and scheduled every Friday morning. Kingley Shacklebolt, acting Minister of Magic had started the meeting under Hermione's advisement, one of the many things he had taken from the journal she had given him. The meeting had the Heads of all the Ministry's departments along with several researchers and undersecretaries. Harry was invited to all of them but would not be part of them until he finished his Auror training, although he did suggest big plushy armchairs as seats, which the minister had laughed at as he flicked his wand and purple armchairs appeared to clash horribly with the sleek black modern table.

Blaise was invited to the meetings as he was the main person writing and researching Magical and Muggle relations but Hermione knew he was trying to get Terry invited in. Not that Blaise and Hermione didn't discuss everything with him but it would be odd going in tomorrow without him, he was the one doing the research after all.

Hermione felt the dinner atmosphere evaporate with the small talk as she watched Blaise and Terry interact, it was odd at times to see them so at ease with each other. To say that she was shocked that the two had been dating since Sixth Year was an understatement, now five days later and Hermione could see the familiarity, the love. It was silly but she was glad that they had this flat together, it would be unbearable to see them part ways at the end of the night. Which she sensed was coming soon, but not before the announcement, she didn't know what it was but the boys had been acting a bit funny all night.

Briefly, Hermione wondered if she was about to turn down an invitation to something inappropriate but she knew that wasn't what it was going to be. She shook the thought away with a smile and waited patiently for them to decide when to tell her. Unsurprisingly, Blaise took charge of the conversation, "Hermione, I've told you about my half-sister, right?" Hermione nodded, "CeCe, right?"

"Right," he looked at his hands briefly, "she wants to meet you."

"Why?" She was frowning because something was off.

"Well, she wants to recruit you." _Ah, there it was_, she thought.

"Recruit me for what, exactly?"

* * *

**A/N: Longest chapter yet. Thank you so much for the reviews and favorites! You guys rock! **


	4. The Silver in the Veil

**A/N: Sorry for the wait. **

* * *

_May 2nd, 2001 - Ulster Museum, Queens Quarter, Belfast, Northern Ireland, UK_

Hermione sighed as she stared at her phone, blinking away at seven missed calls from John Winchester. It was Sam's birthday, according to her files and the calls had started at 5 AM. She had done the quick math and realized it had started at midnight, assuming that Mr. Winchester was in the East Coast. She shut off her phone with as she walked to the elevator, regretting deeply giving her personal phone number to the man.

It had been ten months since the faithful day in Bobby Singer's house; the two brothers had come back after three hours, smelling slightly of smoke with smiles, jokes and too many questions. She had quickly started packing up, hiding her files and Teddy's magical tent and the undetectable extension charm in her trunk with all her books. She had given the three hunters her international phone number while dodging questions about the empty butterbeer bottle in the cup holder of her black Ford Crown Victoria.

She had regretted it next day and every day since.

She had been back to America twice since then, to check in with her home-based hunters; it quickly became apparent that John Winchester was looking for her. Her last visit Mark had apparently been on the phone with John when she knocked on the door and she had to cut her visit short with him and his library and flee as he was on his way from two states away. He had called at least three times a day since. Some days more, there was a week when he had not called at all and that worried Hermione so badly that she went looking for the man, found him in the hospital under an alias and pain killers. She had healed the cracked ribs and concussion and left before he could get his bearings or his sons came back from their impromptu summons from the nurse.

CeCe has been furious and banned her from America for the time being; sent on more international missions to Japan and the Middle East.

This, of course, had not deterred Hermione in the least. She had been looking into Azazel- having learned the name of the yellow-eyed demon from a book she found while on a mission in Israel. She just hadn't relayed the information to John or his sons as of yet. Mostly, she wasn't sure if he was a demon or something else and that terrified her. But there was also the fact that she did not know John well enough to know if he could be trusted with the information she had gathered about his family.

It was ugly, it was bloody and it seemed it was still not over. There were still hidden plans and someone was pulling the strings, she could feel it. Her hyper-awareness hadn't been this sensitive since the day Umbridge had been introduced at Hogwarts.

A big part of her wanted to call Sam personally, tell him he was a pawn to something. But in all her searching she still had not found what, exactly that something was. It was driving her insane. At least when she was with Harry, Voldermort was clearly the main enemy. Azazel was indeed an enemy but he was not the top of the pyramid as John liked to believe.

In between her trips to Japan and tracking a girl by the name of Abigail through the Middle East; Hermione had been spitting her time in between Athens and The Death Chamber in the Department of Mysteries and looking into portals.

She felt like she was back in third year; spread too thin, keeping secrets and lying.

Harry was concerned and she kept off putting lunch with Draco. She had a feeling they were talking behind her back, trying to track her. Paranoia was a causing sleepless nights and lies stacked on top of lies.

Exiting the elevator she made a beeline to the Saints and Scholars section, the path familiar and oddly crowded for a Wednesday. She stopped and looked at the showpiece, finding the familiar glint of light pinned on the wall, half hidden behind a battle helmet. Her eyes glanced around the crowded room and found the security guard too far away and smiled. The next seconds would be a blur in the security cameras with a small blip in the alarm system that would have staff laughing about faulty wires and much needed upgrades.

Ten minutes later, found Hermione in patch of shade in the Acropolis of Athens, weapon in hand. She made a note to call Sam and wish him a Happy Eighteenth Birthday, because the way the blade glowed in her hands made her feel like she wouldn't alive to call tomorrow.

* * *

_June 17th, 1998 – The Death Chamber, Department of Mysteries - London, England, UK – Ministry of Magic_

Hermione was having disturbing thoughts as she sat cross legged in front of the veil. The whispers were more like wailing now, had been since the final battle, so much so that The Death Chamber had been locked up for over two months now. Hermione was one of the few people with access and she knew it was going to be taken away once Harry found out in the upcoming Minister's Table.

It would be his first one since they started. And everything was going to change with him there.

Hermione stood and traced the symbol etched in the arch, fingers ghosting over the actual veil. She would miss the voices and the cold. She had tried thinking of excuses on why she should be allowed to keep her access. Blaise had suggested that she start a research project, something boring likes it origins to keep both Harry and Kingsley off her back. The idea had merit, even when she had called him a sneaky Slytherin for suggesting it.

Ever since meeting CeCe, Blaise and CeCe had become constants in her life. As she carefully copied the symbols into her parchment, she wondered if she should have said no.

"Sorry, I just got out of my own war; don't really want to join yours." And gone on her way. It was doubtful that she would ever walk away. She had told Harry once that he had a hero-complex. It was highly hypocritical of her, she realized, but it didn't change the fact that she usually thought her plans carefully. She was stuck mow, she knew she wouldn't walk away from this, no matter the cost.

She opened her journal and jotted down what the voices were saying. Concluding that Blaise was right, she made a mental note to put together a quick research plan that would bore Harry within five minutes and Kingsley in ten.

She had to have access to the veil, it was priority number one.

She looked down to see what she had written and realized it was not her handwriting.

Moreover, it wasn't English. It was a symbol that she had never seen before, one that she should have a clue what it meant. But for some reason, she knew: Athens.

* * *

_May 2nd, 2001 – US Post Office – Canyon Lake, TX_

Sam smiles as he hangs up the phone. Genie had called to tell him Happy Birthday and he couldn't stop grinning as he made his way to his PO Box. He'd been having another argument with his dad and he had hoped that today they could at least put it to the side.

It had been too much to wish for apparently but Dean had made up for it; gotten him presents and a gas station pie with a bunch of pink candles. Dean had muttered that they were the only ones left but Sam had waved him off and smiled when blowing out the candles and sharing his slice.

Dean didn't know that Sam had led them there for a hunt that didn't exist. The lake was not in fact haunted, at least not that he knew of. He just had to get to this post office without disappearing on his birthday, his dad might be pissed but he was not stupid. So under the cover of research around the town he had split away from the two of them. Dean had hovered but he waved him off and promised to go swimming after they finished the hunt. Dean had walked away making loud jokes about baby brothers getting too big for the lake and Sam had practically ran into the Post Office.

Now he was holding the welcome packet to Stanford in his shaking hands. He gotten his acceptance letter a few months ago and he had sent in the necessary paperwork like a pro waiting for the financial side to perform miracles. Oddly enough he didn't think he could get away with a couple of hundred thousand dollars in credit card fraud for school. And with that joyless thought he sent a quick prayer up as he tore open the packet and searched for the financial aid section.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts on me a few skipping years or not? Keeping it here or more into the Supernatural series. Also, pairings? At the moment this looks like a 15-20 chapter story with no pairings as of yet. But I can easily add them and make them flow with the story.**


	5. The Girl in the Pensieve

A/N: Sorry for the wait, I started writing a Sam/Amy Pond scene and realized 700 words in that it would never fit into the story so I scarped it and started all over again. Last chapter I asked for pairing; as of now everyone wants a Dean/Hermione story? If not speak now or forever hold your peace!

* * *

March 12th, 2002 - London, England, Hermione Grangers Flat

Hermione watched the incandescent shine of her memories swirl around in the pensieve in front of her. With a heavy sigh she pressed her face against the memories and felt a jolt as she was sucked in, flashes of memories jumping at her until she finally landed with a soft thump.

The first memory was in sharp focus of the two figures, one she recognized as herself, recruiting the other figure, Lynn into the Agency. The two women were discussing portals; the science behind it and how anyone, even muggles were able to access different planes of existing with the right tools. She was clutching the list of home based hunters, her assignment file spread open; the need to find out how much these muggles knew was priority.

Hermione walked away from that memory to another, while the memories swirled she caught glimpses of C.J. and the Winchester. She her banishment papers from America, her meeting with Lynn leaving her in charge of checking in with the hunters as she tucked the Elingston folder into her briefcase.

She found herself in dirty cave, having lost the girl somewhere in Israel she was about to start retracing her steps when she felt magic pulse beneath her feet. With one last ditch effort into finding the girl, Hermione gave of the halfhearted chase in favor of finding the underground entrance. Finally she came to a closet sized room that seemed empty but the magic in the air was making her short hair frizz and crackle until she finally found the book, half buried in the ground.

Again she walked away from the memory to see herself standing shaded corner in Athens, methodically healing her wounds. There was a blade and feather in between her bleeding calves and she was pulling vials of potions from her bag with a cell phone in her hand calling-

Sam in a coffee shop in California. Another swirl of memories, faster now of-

Dean, freshly baked birthday pie and camera flash-

Arguing with CeCe and her need to be unbanished from America, stating that the Eligston girl was somewhere in Arizona. CeCe taking her off the case and offering her a deal-

Harry.

Hermione found herself looking at her best friend and knowing he was keeping a secret from her. Not that she didn't keep secrets herself but this one concerned her, she could see the guilt oozing out of his pores. She felt a tiny twinge of guilt herself as she eavesdropped on his call to Ron; they were arguing about a guy Dee Winchester.

She pulled herself out pensive in an ugly yank, pulling her wayward emotions into place. It took her twenty minutes of internal debate and two pro and con lists before she conjured three boxes. Taking an old quill, she labeled them: kitchen, dining/living room and bed/bath. She pulled out wand and started in the kitchen as she pulled out her phone and made a call.

She was halfway done with the kitchen when CeCe answered, "I accept-" she watched the box seal itself and float to her front door, "-but I have one condition."

* * *

March 4th, 2002 – London, England - Ministry of Magic

Later, Harry would reflect on how he found himself snooping in Hermione's office during her lunch break. He would conclude it was when he overheard Teddy asking for "Dee" and Hermione shushing him quietly during the Weasley Sunday diner. When he asked, Hermione had said it was some toy he had named but forgotten at her home, he had smiled tightly at her vague answer but said nothing. Harry had seen the lie in her eyes but not her voice and wondered when Hermione had become such a good liar.

So Monday morning he had asked Ginny to take her out of her office and give him time and a distraction. Which is why he was snooping without alerting any alarms, there had been a small one on the door that he was able to disable and would be able to put up before he left?

Hermione's office and desk were larger than his, he realized as he turned but it did not look it. It was lined with bookshelves sagging underneath the weight of books; Harry was convinced they were only standing was with magic and filing cabinets filled to the brim with papers. Her desk was neat but cluttered with photographs mostly he recognized locations and people even if he didn't like everyone in them, he sneered a bit when he saw one with Draco Malfoy and Neville Longbottom at what seem to be a large garden.

It was on her desk was a stack a papers that Harry zeroed in on, his head tilted and eyes narrowed. Finally, he saw a glint of light yellow folder in the midst of starch white. Even when being rushed by a Weasley, Hermione had hidden it fairly well. Harry careful froze the papers and magically lifted them; he would not leave a shred of evidence that was here after all. The folder, heavier for such a slim folder was labeled with a Winchester, D and it hurt to look at. Harry cast a few diagnostics over it and realized why; it didn't matter that he found it; he'd never be able to read a single word that Hermione didn't want him to read. Layers upon layers of protection were cast on the folder and he imagined on the papers inside of it.

But Harry knew then that this was the "Dee" that Teddy had asked for, so, warily closing his eyes, he cast a protection spell on his face and hands he opened the folder. There was a light heat underneath his skin, pulsing as he felt a stack of papers hit his hand, he opened his eyes cautiously and winced. It was itchy uncomfortable feeling but it was bearable and he was still blinking sporadically when he noticed that the stack of papers were actually Muggle photographs held together by a single paper clip. He scanned them quickly, they were mostly of a young man, seemingly around their age, and some were just of him alone, some there was an older man with a cap on, another one with a younger boy with shaggy brownish hair.

Finally at the end, Harrys' breath hitched, was a Polaroid with Hermione, the guys arms were wrapped around her shoulders and hers around his waist, they were smiling facing the camera. The white bottom of the photo read January 24th, 2002. Harry could see a shadow of a building and windows; he turned the photo around and found Hermione's small script that read, Scotland Yard.

It was moments later that Harry had collected himself and about ten important questions that burned with the need to know. It took him another ten minutes to try to search the paperwork underneath before finally giving up at the weight of the heat collecting in his eyes. He could not read a single paper, although he had a collection of words that meant nothing to him but he wrote them down all the same, he duplicated the photograph of Hermione and the man before replacing them in the folder and returning to its stack of papers.

Stuffing his own copies into a folder about the next Auror meeting and tucked them into his robes. He took a minute to carefully make sure everything was in its place before leaving a recasting Hermione's privacy alarm, as he got into one of the lifts he heard Ginny's voice talking loudly and Hermione's quiet response.

* * *

September 7th, 1998 – Washington D.C. - Magical Congress of the United States of America

Lynn stood, back straight, staring at the empty air in front of her. The clock on the mantelpiece behind her chimed one, two, three and then silence: it was then the air around Lynn displaced itself. Right before her eyes an archway appeared, red bricks shifted inside of it. Finally she heard a small tapping and three diagonal bricks glowed; she pulled out her wand and mimicked the tapping per instructions. The bricks rapidly moved to finalize the arch like structure and women stepped through before the archway disappeared in a small pop.

The women have short brown hair, that curled slightly was dressed in a full black pant suit and smile. Lynn was stepping forward, her mouth forming a smile and formal greeting.

"Miss Granger, it's a pleasure," the young woman shook her hand, once firmly.

"Miss Matten, I presume."

"Yes, welcome to the Magical Congress of the United States of America, we've got your room ready and several meetings scheduled." Lynn had already started leading the way across the marble hallway.

As the two women talked about the week's schedule, Hermione scanned the area like she was memorizing it, not the Lynn commented on it, she would guess there were still war instincts.

"We have opening this week on Wednesday, maybe you can catch Fitchburg Finches practice, you'll be in Massachusetts for the Harvard visit, Quiddictch is big in England, isn't it? We have Quodpot here, but none are playing this week."

"Oh, that's all right, I think I'll spend my time visiting the Institute." Lynn faltered for a second.

"I don't believe you have clearance-" Lynn spoke carefully as she ushered Hermione into the meeting room, "-ma'm."

Hermione smiled, "Of course, that's something I will discuss with Madam President, after I get a tour of Quantico."

"So, you will be going to the Muggle base?" Lynn had heard the rumors, the war heroine had gone a bit rouge, nobody knew her end game but she was working on something big.

"Oh, yes. I already have an appointment with the Director later on today." Lynn smiled and offered her a drink because she had no adequate response.

"I'll let Madam President you are here, Miss Granger," Lynn watched Hermione sit back and pull out a black briefcase from thin air. As she was walking away she could swear she voices from behind the closed door but none were of Miss Granger.

* * *

September 16th, 2001 - Peet's Coffee &amp; Tea - Stanford, California

Hermione landed roughly in the midst of a patch of trees outside the coffee shop she was meant to meet Sam. Carefully pocketing the now useless portkey it the shape of a bended spoon into her beaded bag and made her way, her eyes searching for anyone who could have seen her appear out thin air.

She finally found her way into the shop and immediately found Sam Winchester tall frame slouching into his seat and made her way to him.

"Sam," she greeted with a hug and kiss on the cheek.

"Genie, oh it's good to see you." He hugged back, a little awkwardly.

"What's the emergency? And where's your brother? I don't think I've ever seen you separated?" Hermione knew instantly that she had gotten to the problem in one sentence.

"Uh, so I got into Stanford University," she blinked once and motioned him to continue; he sucked in a breath and jumped into a long winded, obviously pent up rant.

It was two hours, three cups of tea and four blueberry muffins later that Hermione had finally wrestled every last detail out of Sam.

"So that's it then?" He nodded, officially talked out.

"Okay then, well I'm visiting your brother next week to slap some sense into him-" she held up her hand to stall his protest, "-but until then how about you show me your dorm?"

It would take another hour for the grand tour of the dorms, school grounds and the pep talk before Genie left Sam at the bus stop he walked her to. Hermione would leave him still looking a bit lost but without such a burden on his shoulders and a determination to see Dean Winchester.


End file.
